


Lewdly Inappropriate

by ausmac



Series: Lewd [3]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 06:55:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9645299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ausmac/pseuds/ausmac
Summary: When Garrosh finds himself in possession of an injured Varian, well, some things are hard to resist.Part of my little Interlewd series.





	

Hunched down behind a boulder, Garrosh watched Varian Wrynn fighting for his life.

Despite his general feelings for humans – which varied from irritation through to complete loathing – this particular human was different.   He fought like an orc – ruthless, entirely focused and vicious – but with the kind of athletic grace that only humans had.  Where an orc would roar and slash and crush, Varian danced with his sword, soaring over bodies and the living alike.  He was well named for the wolf spirit, all fury and courage and leaping animal power.

In this instance Varian was fighting half a dozen cultists who’d backed him into a small dip in the rocks next to a river.  If he went for the water it would slow him and he’d lose the advantage of speed.  But the rocky ground around him was equally difficult to move through.  He wasn’t only fighting the cultists, he was fighting the terrain, and both were gradually winning.

Two Twilight Hammer orcs lay dead in the river shallows and another had hobbled off to the side to bleed to death from a severed arm.  He was cursing and howling, screaming at his companions to kill the human pig.  Which they were trying hard to do.

With any other human, Garrosh would have left them to their fight and continued on, but this wasn’t just any human.  This particular human and he had a history, a very personal and intimate history. And if he was dead, they couldn’t explore that particular aspect any further.  Which would be a shame.

The fighting in Twilight Highlands had not gone as well as Garrosh had hoped.  Although the Dragonmaw had joined the Horde, the numbers and power of the Twilight Hammer cult were more than he’d anticipated.  He’d flown in to take personal charge of an assault and somehow become separated from his guards.  When he’d slaughtered everything within the immediate area, he’d made his way to the river to get a drink and reassess his situation, and possibly find something else to slaughter.

And as he made his way through a tumbled pile of boulders, he’d heard the sound of battle and peered around the largest rock to check the situation.  And the situation was very interesting indeed.

Flexing his hand around Gorehowl’s shaft, he mulled the matter over.  Varian was doing well and most times wouldn’t need any help, but he was outnumbered ten to one and already bleeding from a number of wounds, and favouring his left arm, which dripped blood every time he moved.  He was getting tired, Garrosh could see that with his experienced warrior’s eye.  Eventually he’d fall, and Garrosh decided that he didn’t like that idea.  If anyone was going to kill this particular human pest, it was him.  Though not, perhaps, immediately.

He stood and stepped out from the boulder.  “Lok’tar ogar!  My turn!” And then he charged.

The shock of his sudden appearance froze most of the cultists in mid-fight, but one of them had been swinging a club at Varian and the club’s momentum carried it forward.  Varian had also looked towards him at the same moment;  the club connected with his head and knocked him against the tree at his back.  He slid down bonelessly, obviously unconscious.

Garrosh tore through the cultists like a fire through tinder.  Bodies were hurled up and sideways, along with various body parts as Gorehowl sliced through them.  Two of the honourless curs tried to run and died in the attempt.  When he ran out of things to hit he dropped the big axe next to the tree and bent to check on the High King.

Alive, with a nasty bump on his head.  Like Garrosh, the King distained the use of a helm.  It was a risk they both took but it gave extra freedom and a clearer line of sight.  This time that advantage had been removed by Garrosh’s unexpected arrival.  The Warchief picked up the unconscious human, tossed him over his shoulder, and collected his axe.  Today had indeed been a very good day for a fight….

 

Varian woke up with a world beater of a headache, and groaned as light attacked his mind with sharp little claws when he opened his eyes.  Something soft and cold was put on his forehead and a hand held him still.

“Be still, man.  You have a cracked skull and moving will ruin my healing.”

The voice – and the language – were Orcish, and he dislodged the corner of the cloth and cracked one eyelid carefully open.  It took a moment for the eye to focus and a deep voice hissed in annoyance.  “I said don’t move.  Human, do you not understand me?  I was told you speak our language.”

The physical pain at the side of his head, the headache thundering inside his skull and the nausea it all generated in his gut made it difficult to think.  He lay still, letting his eye close and the cloth be replaced because it did feel a little better; he thought he smelled the cool tang of Jasmine from the cloth.  And just when he thought it might be time to try and figure out why he was being healed by an orc, the healer touched his head and awareness slid away…

 

Zaela poured Garrosh a mug of ale and raised her own in salute.  “Congratulations on your capture of the Alliance warchief.  That’s a mighty victory.”  She took a swig of her ale and wiped her mouth.  “When will you take his head?”

Garrosh took a swallow of his ale and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.  “ I’m not.  Killing him, that is.”

“Indeed?” She raised one eyebrow, obviously puzzled. “Well, he’s yours of course, to do with as you wish.”

 _To do with as you wish…_   Well, that covered a lot of ground.  He had a lot of things he wanted to do with Varian Wrynn.  Assuming he recovered from his injury.

Garrosh left Zaela to her duties and went to check up on his captive.  Varian was laid on his back on a bed in Garrosh’s guest quarters, wearing only the light cloth pants he’d been wearing under his padding and armour.  The healers had just left with news that they’d put him to sleep to allow the head damage to properly heal and requested that the Warchief not wake or move him.  His intentions were good - he'd just look at the man for awhile and consider what to do about him.   His options were varied, and he wasn't sure the most obvious one - of killing him, as duty would normally require - was what he wanted to do.  The thought of doing that made him uncomfortable in ways he'd not previously experienced.

Garrosh had never seen the High King so quiet.  Their past meetings had been frequently violent with a great deal of emotion and activity.  Even their couplings had been energetic.  Neither of them were gentle people, more used to action and activity than being still.  He let his eyes wander over the man’s body, studying it at rest. 

His dark hair had been untied and tidied and it lay spread around his head, the ends trailing over the edge of the bed.  His usually expressive features were still and pale, touched only by a flush of pink to the cheeks.  His chest rose and fell with each regular breath and Garrosh counted the scars – there were an impressive number of them.  His chest, arms and thighs were well-built; he was probably considered powerful for a human, though he would always seemed undersized next to Garrosh.  It never stopped him from offering challenge in that fearless, arrogant manner that pleased the Warchief so.

Despite the healer’s request, he couldn’t resist placing a hand on the man’s chest, above his heart.  Just there – one short, brief thrust of a dagger just there, and his Horde’s greatest enemy would be gone.   _But such a waste…._ His fingers moved slowly over the warm chest, circling the nipple, stroking down over ribs and firm stomach, to slide under the edge of his pants. 

As his fingertips stroked through the hair at Varian’s groin the man stirred, his chest shuddering slightly as his breathing became uneven.  Garrosh paused, pressing a little more firmly with his fingers at the tender flesh around the balls and Varian’s eyes opened.  They were bleary, unfocused but he was aware enough to growl.  “Pervert….”

“It seems touching you here is enough to bring you back from near death.  How do you feel?”

“Sore.  Head aches.  Get your hand…off my balls, beast.”

Garrosh pulled his hand out and slid closer, resting his elbows on either side of Varian’s chest, bringing his face down close to Varian’s throat.  “You’re weak as a pup.  You couldn’t hold off a determined assault by a murloc.”  He licked at the damp skin, tasting the pleasant human sweat.  “Hmmm.  Assault.  Yes, I think I’ll assault you while you’re helpless.  I like you helpless.”

Varian tried to lift himself, then sank back with a groan and closed his eyes.  “Cur….”

He continued to taste the human, licking up over his chin to his cheeks, lapping at his eyes and down to his mouth.  He suckled at the partly open mouth, forcing it further open and thrusting his tongue inside.  He’d never kissed a human but this was like a small invasion as Varian tried to force the tongue away, to close his mouth, to bite down but it was too much effort and he gasped and opened his mouth further at last, letting Garrosh in deeper.  Even as he won that small victory he felt himself becoming aroused by having such control over the High King that he couldn’t even resist this small intimacy.  And when Varian responded, curling his tongue and moulding his lips around Garrosh’s, it was even more exciting. 

Defeating this man in strength was satisfying.  Forcing his submission when he was helpless was also satisfying.  The first because it proved Garrosh’s superiority.  The second because Varian would be frustrated almost beyond bearing.  Either way, he won, and the taste and feel of that frustration in the way the big human quivered and twitched and cursed in strained whispers was delicious.

He used oils left by the healers to coat his cock and lubricate Varian’s arse and entered his body with a deliberate, careful thrust.  Varian’s legs were pulled up over Garrosh’s shoulders and he held them easily in place as he pumped in and out, watching the tell-tale signs of restrained violence flush the High King’s body.  He flinched as Garrosh pushed into him but still held his eyes closed, lips curled in a snarl of pain and exasperation.  Yet as much as he wanted to fight he couldn’t, and that self-enforced subjugation excited Garrosh even further.

At one particularly deep thrust of Garrosh’s hips Varian began to lift his head and Garrosh snarled at him as he stilled himself.  “Behave, fool.  Do you wish to injure your brain?  On the other hand, you’re a human, who’d notice the difference.”  He watched Varian’s head drop back and the man gave a defeated groan as Garrosh resumed his penetration.  He groaned again a short while later when Garrosh struck the sweet spot inside him but it was a different sound then, a muted pleasure sound as his mouth opened to suck in air and his hands flexed and twisted.  He began to meet Garrosh’s thrusts, hips twitching forward at each deep touch, the big buttock muscles flexing around the Warchief’s cock, which was enough to send him over the edge and he emptied himself into the human’s arse with a shout.

Normally he would just have collapsed onto Varian but he had enough control to pull back, letting the limp legs slip down as he moved away to lie beside him.  Varian’s head turned minutely, and Garrosh found himself being glared at by a pair of bloodshot blue eyes.  He chuckled and patted the human’s sweat-dampened chest.

“Don’t worry King, once you’re healed I’ll let you go back to your people.  After all, half the fun of the hunt is in the chase.  Next time…”

“Next time,” Varian muttered wearily, “I won’t be quite so helpless, beast.” Varian turned away and closed his eyes with a sigh of tired annoyance as Garrosh curled around him.  It was, the Warchief thought, rather like holding a sleeping wolf.  You had to know it would wake up eventually and bite you on the arse….


End file.
